Accepting the Unacceptable
by Laura the infamous B
Summary: Okay, I couldn't resist. :) A short tag to The Widening Gyre.


Accepting Accepting the Unacceptable.   
a tag to The Widening Gyre   
by Laura Boeff   


He.   
Was.   
Infected.   
.....   
Shit!   
Harper sat in one of the many observation lounges that dotted the Andromeda. Sat   
in it's dimly lit confines, watching the stars flicker by outside.   
Now what?   
It was the question he kept asking himself over and over again. And yet, the   
answer did not come.   
Not yet.   
Drawing his eyes away from the streaking stars, Harper looked down at the gun in   
his hand. His pistol; an Allison V special. Tinkered with, of course, by his genius self.   
Jacked out to maximum efficiency and destructiveness. The harness it rested in was worn   
and ragged but not the gun. It was clean. Flawless. It's matte black finish seeming to draw   
in any ready light. It's snub barrel, custom formed grip and hair trigger awaiting his beck   
and call.   
He lifted the barrel to his temple. Rested it's cool muzzle against his head, feeling   
goosebumbs dance along his neck from it's indifferent caress.   
The easy way. The way to insure he didn't suffer. That he didn't live out the   
nightmare that had lurked in the dark recesses of his mind; had hidden in the corners of   
his psyche ever since the very day he survived his first Magog raid.   
The easy way.   
The way to insure the pain never came.   
The easy way.   
And then....   
The gun dropped back into his lap. He stared at it without really seeing it.   
Then there was the hard way. The way where he willed himself to wait. To trust   
Rev and his Lucapreem variant to keep the larva at bay. To buy him the time for Trance,   
or Rommie, or just *someone* to come up with a way to get these abominations out of   
him!   
Trust.   
Wait.   
Live.   
The barrel came up and rested against his temple.   
The easy way.   
Then went back into his lap.   
The hard way.   
Temple.   
The easy way.   
Lap.   
That hard way.   
Temple.   
The easy way.   
Lap.   
The hard...   
Harper started at the soft scuff of movement behind him. Simply *felt* that he   
was no longer alone. He sighed.   
"You can stop lurking in the shadows, Rev," he declared, turning as he was   
approached. But it was not the repentant Rev, who had been hovering around him like a   
misbegotten shadow. No. To Harper's surprise, and confusion, it was Tyr.   
"What are you doing?" Tyr asked, eyes resting distastefully on the gun in Harper's   
hand, clearly communicating his thoughts on the subject of suicide.   
"Deciding what to do," Harper said, indifferent to Tyr's glower.   
"Live."   
That simple; to Tyr. As long as you lived, you weren't dead, which meant you   
were ahead of the game.   
But what if you didn't want to play the game any longer?   
He laughed, bitterly. "Great argument, Tyr. Nice, simple. Can't fault you for that."   
"Did you learn nothing from my story?"   
"Take your observations on support beams seriously, or wake up with a second   
smile," Harper said blithely.   
Tyr snarled. "Harper..."   
But Harper gave into his own anger first.   
"Look, I'm not you! I'm not a god-damn Nietzschean. I'm just a sad excuse for a   
human being. I'm sorry if that doesn't sit well with you, but that's your problem, not   
mine!"   
That didn't help Tyr's glower.   
"No. You are Seamus Zelazny Harper and you, like a million other beings in this   
cruel and uncaring universe, have been challenged to fight for the life you have!" Tyr   
roared back, arms crossed over his chest, clenching together in a display of a Nietzschean   
controlling his temper as he stared down at the young human.   
Harper stared up, strangely untouched by the Tyr's simmering anger. He'd lost his   
fear of the hulking Nietzschean. What could be more frightening then the Magog larva he   
carried in his belly?   
The silence dragged in a dead-lock. Harper expected for Tyr to give into his   
frustration, and give up on the petulant human. But, he didn't. He took a deep, steadying   
breathe, a gleam that looked suspiciously like compassion coming to his eyes as he   
glanced out the window thoughtfully.   
"Where are you right now, Seamus Harper?"   
Harper blinked. Rhetorical question. He knew that, but decided to play along.   
"Observation deck 4, on level 7," he replied dryly.   
"Wrong."   
Tyr's gaze dropped back to him.   
"You are not just on the Andromeda- you are not on Earth. You have escaped the   
ravaged planet of your birth. You fought for a place on the Maru and went on to prove   
time and time again your skills and cunning for caring for the last battle ship of the   
Commonwealth!" Tyr's voice grew louder and firmer as he spoke. "You did not get here   
by giving up! You did not accept the fate your lowly birth destined you for, but rebelled   
against it. Raised yourself up above you peers to free yourself of their short-lived and   
miserable lives to be here! On the Andromeda!"   
Harper found himself utterly speechless beneath the Nietzschean's verbal assault.   
"What did you fight for?" Tyr demanded of him. "Why did you bother fighting so   
hard to get here, only to give up all that you have so dearly won when faced with the   
darkest trial of your life? A trial you do not face alone. Will not face alone!"   
Silence fell between them, Tyr's eyes boring into his own as if the Nietzschean   
could transfer his defiance, his fighting sprit to the small human.   
Tyr repeated his demand, but not in a challenging shout, but a soft and elegant   
question.   
"What did you fight for?"   
Good question, Harper reflected. He'd fought.. he'd fought because.. because he   
didn't want to die on Earth. He didn't want to be a nobody. He wanted to be somebody.   
Do something.   
He wanted...   
He wanted to...   
Live.   
Harper looked at the pistol still in his hand in a moments contemplation. Then just   
dropped it back into it's holster as he stood, feeling it's weight tug gently at his gun belt.   
Tyr's expression did not change, not one iota, but there was something there in his dark   
brown eyes akin to triumph.   
"You have made your decision?"   
Harper couldn't help the slight smile that came to his face. A mere crinkling of his   
lips as he glanced up at his large companion. And, in a strange and unexpected way,   
friend.   
"For today," was his confession, with his thanks silently laced into his reply.   
Tyr simply nodded his acceptance as Harper headed toward the door the   
Nietzschean silently padding behind him.   
Harper nodded as well.   
"For today."   



End file.
